


Meeting the High Overseer

by starbunny



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Other, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 04:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6839869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbunny/pseuds/starbunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff Curnow is supposed to be meeting the High Overseer Campbell. He was supposed to meet him, talk, and then leave, but of course, things never go as planned. Instead, he has a fateful encounter with a very familiar man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting the High Overseer

Geoff Curnow’s hand tightened around his sword for the third time in five minutes. He had been feeling slightly…off…that day, and he didn’t feel that it had anything to do with the sudden meeting with High Overseer Campbell. But perhaps it did, he conceded. His dislike for the red cladded Overseer was well-known among his men, and he was sure that Campbell himself knew of it. So when the High Overseer himself personally invited him, a mere captain in the City Watch, to have some wine and settle a minor dispute, Geoff was obviously unsettled.

He hadn’t felt this nervous since…the day the empress died. His heart dropped when he thought of her sweet face and her slender body. Geoff had liked Empress Jessamine very much. Her kindness and warm heart made her loved by most, and it infuriated many when she was murdered by her Lord Protector, Corvo Attano. The edge of Geoff’s lip tilted downwards at the thought of the dark-skinned Serkonan. He could never expose his true thoughts about his doubts of the Empress’s murder. His thoughts were traitorous, and he wondered if witchcraft was capable of reading minds, and exposing his true thoughts. 

He didn’t believe Corvo to have killed the Empress. He never supported that snake, Lord Regent, Hiram Burrows. Even as he thought that, Geoff couldn’t help but take a surreptitious glance around, just in case…some witchcraft user heard him. Having travelled with the man for two months outside Dunwall, he had a vague idea of the man’s personality. As quiet as Corvo was, he always had a soft look in his dark eyes when the Empress was mentioned. Geoff knew of the rumours surrounding Corvo and the Empress, and he was quite sure they were true since the day he witnessed Corvo open an old letter from her with such delicate fingers, and kiss the Empress’s signature. Geoff himself had ducked behind a corner instantly after seeing that, embarrassed at having seen something he wasn’t meant to see. 

He couldn’t have killed the Empress, Geoff decided for the millionth time in his head. And yet, there had been no evidence to prove him innocent. Lady Emily was gone, and there was nobody at the scene other than Corvo and the dead Empress. He shuddered at the thought, remembering the scent of the fresh blood and the cold, lifeless body of a woman he once fancied. Now the Serkonan had escaped prison with no witnesses. A chill ran down Geoff’s spine. That alone spoke volumes of Corvo’s abilities and powers. There were no casualties. All guards on duty that day were found unconscious in Corvo’s opened cell, and none remembered seeing him at all. He had passed like a shadow, and killed no one. For some reason, that made Geoff admire the man even more. The rugged man had been tortured, shamed and striped of his honour. He had spent six months in Coldridge Prison. That must have changed him. It must have. But instead…He retained a soft touch, just as Geoff remembered of him before the Empress was killed. It would be an honour to once again work with him, Geoff admitted.

Perhaps after the dreadful times of Lord Regent, everything will return back to where it should be. With Lady Emily ascending to the throne, the plague cured, and Corvo being reinstated back as Lord Protector, cleared of his “crimes”. Maybe he would even see his dear Callista once again. Even Geoff laughed at the thought. Lofty dreams. Mere dreams! The plague was spreading faster than ever, and Sokolov’s inventions were now deployed at every corner of non-quarantined areas, turning the once proud Dunwall into a grey deathly graveyard where screams were nothing more than background noise. 

Officer Thorpe was the one responsible for helping Corvo escape. On the day of his supposed execution, he had mysteriously disappeared, vanished. All that was found were two unconscious bodies of the guards in-charge of the execution. They swore they hadn’t seen anyone enter. All they remembered was a sharp pain in the neck, and that was it. It was the same day Lizzy Stride escaped prison. The two events were not just a coincidence, Geoff was sure of that. It was yet another unsolved mystery. Strange happenings were occurring, and the City Watch was more nervous than ever. Most blame such supernatural occurrences on the Outsider, especially on those tainted by his hands, those that drabble in the dark, forbidden arts far from sight. 

He wondered who bribed Thorpe to break out Corvo, and if the defamed Royal Protector himself was even still alive. The plague had grown stronger in the six months of Corvo’s imprisonment. Much had changed. But surely Corvo, of all people, would know how to handle such change. He would survive. 

He straightened his coat, and adjusted his sleeves before opening the door in front of him that would reveal the bastard Campbell. 

He was even uglier than Geoff remembered. The bald face of Campbell met Geoff’s eyes, and Geoff thought he saw the man scowl. Geoff flashed a tight smile at the man, out of sheer politeness, and Campbell returned it, shaking his hand in a firm grip. Two of Geoff’s men stood at the side, and an Overseer, clad in the gold mask, stood behind Campbell. Geoff’s skin crawled. There had been once a day where gold-cladded Overseers weren’t preaching their Seven Strictures everywhere in the city and those were the days before the Empress died. 

“I trust your trip was uneventful? I hear the Watch is having trouble holding the side streets.” He said. 

“A bunch of children playing games, that’s all it is.” Geoff dismissed it away. He wanted to get it over and done with. He would drink with this accursed man, but he would like for his encounter to be as short as possible. 

“Good, good. And your niece – Callista, isn’t it? I’m very concerned about her.” 

Geoff wanted to choke. Concerned for her? Or did Campbell want a new woman to fuck? He knew of his trips to the Golden Cat, and he knew how Campbell betrayed the Seven Strictures each hour of his living, even while donning the red uniform. 

“She’ll be found. My men are searching district by district.” 

“The poor girl.” Campbell droned, in a tone that made Geoff want to drive his sword into his wretched skin. 

“Callista’s a resourceful one. Probably found a safe place to hole up in all this chaos.” Geoff’s voice came out harder than he intended.

“If my Overseers hear any word I’ll come straight to you.” 

Geoff didn’t feel inclined to nod. 

A bell rang.

“Time for drinks! I hope you won’t refuse. It’ll make this business pass all the quicker.” He turned towards the door leading to the meeting room with unusual enthusiasm. 

His rough hands gripped the door handle and pulled, only for it to be immobile. 

“Locked? One of the servants must have been in here.” He pulled out a key ring from inside his jacket. “Let me see…” 

He picked out a small gold key, and pushed it into the keyhole. 

“It seems I have the wrong one.” Campbell muttered. 

He tried a silver one this time.

“Not that one.” 

A larger gold one.

“No.” 

Geoff’s lip twitched in frustration. He wasn’t going to let damned keys prolong this horrendous meeting! He pointed to the largest silver key in Campbell’s keyring. 

Campbell took Geoff’s suggestion, and the key went into the keyhole. A snug fit. He twisted it, and a satisfying clink was heard.

“Ah! Here we are. Now if you’ll join me…” He pushed open both doors. 

“Men, we’ll come get you when we’re finished. Keep each other entertained in the meantime.” 

Campbell walked into the posh meeting room, and Geoff followed. 

“I don’t understand how this got so unpleasant!” He broke the silence, remembering his awful trip with his men to one of the districts. There had been weepers everywhere. Former humans who had degraded into mindless monsters that craved living flesh. Eyes full of blood. Plague, rats…death. 

“Oh I agree, I agree. A whore dies, and suddenly this.” Campbell nods energetically, a little too energetically.

Geoff scowled, but Campbell didn’t notice, for he was back-facing him. 

“Will you have wine? It’s a Tyvian red.” Campbell stopped in front of the long table in the center of the room. 

“Thank you.” 

“What on-Who’s been in here?” There was a strange tremor in Campbell’s voice that Geoff didn’t miss. 

Geoff glanced over to the table. The empty wine bottle stood upright on a tray, no evidence of being moved. And yet, glass shards were scattered over the metal tray, traces of spilled wine glistening under the light. 

How curious, Geoff thought, as he folded his arms. One of the servants must have really hated Campbell. Geoff fought the urge to smirk. 

“I owe you an apology, Captain. This is hardly the hospitality I planned for you.” 

Campbell muttered something else under his breath. 

“What was that, Campbell?” 

“Never mind. It’s a…stroke of luck for you, Captain.” Campbell dismissed his question with a wave. 

“I’m forced to break out the real vintage. Leave the men here, or we’ll have to share with all of them.” Campbell made his way out of the other door that would lead to the archives and the interrogation room. Geoff begrudgingly followed. 

“Very well, Campbell. As long as we get this little dispute settled.” Geoff made his voice flat, so as not to expose his impatience and frustration. 

Geoff tailed the man down a corridor, in an unbelievably slow pace. Campbell made his way down some steps, and into a darkly-lit room with a single lit statue at the corner. As Geoff looked to the back, he caught sight of the door leading to the kennels and a stack of wooden crates. Was it his imagination, or did the crates seem bigger than usual? Darker than usual? He shook away the thought. 

Campbell pressed the statue’s eye, and with a groaning creak, a door opened. A secret room then, Geoff had expected that. He could smell the stench of sex here, and he wrinkled his nose. He caught sight of a fallen bra in the corner, but he said nothing. Smooth music was playing, and Geoff walked in.

“Do you like paintings? I’ve got an early Sokolov around here somewhere.” Campbell finally spoke, after many minutes of silence since leaving the meeting room.

Campbell gestured to the painting of himself, framed on a wall. Geoff cast a look at it, and found it rather attractive, despite his blatant distaste for the subject of the painting. The brushstrokes were rough, and the colours, vibrant. If he recalled correctly, the painting was completed the day the Empress died. Geoff hardly met the Royal Physician, Anton Sokolov, and he had never spoke to the man in person. Now being in front of such a masterpiece, he couldn’t help but feel as though he did know Sokolov. Something about the colours and brushstrokes made him feel as though they were long-time friends perhaps. He marvelled at the brushstrokes, and the artistic skill of the Royal Physician. 

“Something primal in there, the way the brush work slashes across th-” The High Overseer was interrupted prematurely, and Geoff immediately drew his sword, the hair on his back tingling. The High Overseer fell to the floor with a loud thump, and Geoff’s heart jumped. Sweat poured out of his skin, and he stood there, confused. Geoff looked down on the fallen Campbell, whose right arm clutched the Overseer sabre, and realisation dawned on him, just as his face turned white as linen. Wh- He heard footsteps just meters away from him and jerked to see who it was, readying his sword in front of him. 

A cloaked man appeared from behind the set of wooden crates. Dressed in a familiar uniform that only high-ranking officers of the City Watch wore, the large man held an unusual sword in his right hand, and a strange crossbow, loaded with a green fluid, in the other. Geoff’s eyes finally fell on the mask the man wore, and his skin crawled. Hollow eyes, and grotesque metal wirings holding the mask in a hideous, absolutely terrifying face that could only belong to one’s deepest nightmares.

By the Outsider!

Assassin.

Geoff forced his heart to calm as he desperately tried to recall his training. He wasn’t going to wet his pants from the sight of a disfigured jaw and skeleton eyes! And yet…his body was at odds with his brain. He didn’t feel an ounce of threat from the assassin, despite the horrific mask. 

Their eyes met, or at least Geoff thought they met, and there was a silence apart from Geoff’s deafening heartbeat. He was…saved? Saved from Campbell, by this mysterious assassin.

“You have my thanks.” He started, hoping his voice sounded calm, but a slight tremble in his voice betrayed him. He focused on the man, who was unnaturally still in front of him. Was this man even human? He exuded a ghostly presence, something akin to a shadow.

“Though by all rights, I should probably arrest you.” He looked the assassin down, avoiding the mask. The assassin seemed to realise that Geoff wasn’t going to attack, and he tossed the sword in a twirl, the blade retracting into a thin handle which the assassin hung on his belt in a practiced motion. The blade was clean and devoid of bloodstains, Geoff noted, and yet, the assassin handled the sword with amazing grace and care. He was sure to be very proficient in sword-fighting, even if there was no evidence of the blade being used. The horrifying mask, now burned into his memory, made Geoff’s own hand shake and his instincts screamed. Attacking this man would certainly be a mistake, a fatal mistake. So he didn’t sheath his sword, for his heart was still pounding. Just in case…

The assassin paid him no attention, and hooked his crossbow to the other side of his belt. He then walked over to Campbell’s unconscious body, and picked up a curious black book that had fallen to Campbell’s side. 

Geoff’s sword was loose in his grip, and he couldn’t muster the strength to hold it straight. He kept a close eye on the assassin who stood at the side, rooted to the ground.

There was something strange about this man, something Geoff just couldn’t quite put his finger to. Every action this assassin did screamed familiar to him, and yet, completely foreign. Was it something about the assassin’s footsteps? Or perhaps the broadness of his shoulders? 

The assassin froze when he saw something in the black book, making Geoff swallow nervously. The assassin said nothing, unaware of Geoff’s growing anxiety. He closed the book with a loud clap, and tucked it safely within his coat. In a sweeping motion, the assassin snuck a hand under Campbell and hoisted him over his shoulder with ease.

The man was strong, but the tenderness in which he walked, and the firm way his hand held Campbell on his shoulder reminded Geoff distinctly of a certain man he knew that once kissed a letter from his beloved on a ship at sea. 

The assassin was walking out of the room without turning back. What was the assassin doing with Campbell? But he quickly shook that thought away. He honestly didn’t care. He had hated the dratted High Overseer for too long that it pleased him to see the bastard unconscious and snoring on an assassin’s shoulder. For whatever that the assassin had planned for the High Overseer, he was sure to deserve it. 

“Hmm, you seem familiar…” Geoff begun. The assassin came to an abrupt stop, and Geoff saw how the assassin’s shoulder twitch, as though wanting to turn back. 

“…Even with that mask on.” He continued, his voice lowering. 

The assassin, still quiet, was motionless, and Geoff thought he saw the assassin’s shoulders droop. Droop in a way that Geoff got accustomed to seeing over the last six months. It was what he saw every time he evicted a citizen out from their home, every time a citizen found out their beloved had turned into a weeper. A motion of grief…and one in bone-deep pain. 

Something struck Geoff’s heart then, and his eyes widened. It was him. Corvo. 

But revealing the assassin’s identity was something he couldn’t do. Saying it out loud felt…wrong. 

“No matter.” Geoff quickly shook his head. 

“This once, I’ll just go my own way, and you…yours.” His voice tapered off, losing all the firmness and sternness as before.

The assassin, standing at the doorway, finally twisted back to face Geoff, and Geoff did his best to ignore the mask. 

“Callista misses you.” Spoken in a hard yet velvety voice that Geoff would recognise anywhere. Just three words, and all of Geoff’s anxieties were soothed.

Corvo Attano. He was alive. There was finally somebody fighting against the Lord Regent…There was hope. 

And then Corvo disappeared completely, vanishing in a ball of light.


End file.
